Among others
by mistakesmade
Summary: Shepard was feeling immensely dejected after his conversation with none other than Samara. But who was he to act hurt? He'd keep up the facade of being un-phased by the entire thing for as long as possible. It couldn't hurt, right? Shepard and Samara, both POV's, M for language and content in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Ring-ring**-riiing**._

His frontal lobes burned red from the incessant noise beating at his ear drums. He couldn't think of anything worse than the pounding that coursed through his head at the moment. The surface he's lying on is cold - it's hard; definitely not the bed in his cabin where he should be, but that's probably the least of his worries.

At this point, he'd do just about anything to stop the pain, anything but removing himself from the increasingly comfortable floor. He hopes he's not in a place too obvious, seeing as how it wasn't exactly professional to be sprawled out in such a position, especially if you're a commander. He was sure as hell setting an example right now – being hung over half passed out on the floor, a _very bad_ example. His will to move was thinning with each passing second, and all previous efforts to stand had failed miserably; he thinks that's how he ended up in what seems to be the mess hall in the first place. Lucky enough for him, all the crew members that resided on this deck had long gone to bed. Well, all but one.

Feeling a shift in movement, Shepard grumbles and attempts to grip onto the figure lifting him off the ground.

"Thanks… Vakarian," he slurs, coming to an almost stand with the help of the Turian.

"Who let you into the liquor cabinet? With the way you're walking, I'd guess you drank some of that Krogan scum," Garrus says, doing his best to support Shepard and walk him to the nearby elevator.

"Hey, it's not scum… It actually tasted kind of good," he finishes with a hiccup as his friend props him up to the wall of the small space and presses a few buttons on the control panel.

_Ring-ring**-riiing.**_

Shepard clenches his hands over his ears, but to no avail, the ringing still sounds louder than ever. So loud that he barely notices that he's being lifted and just about carried to his bed. Once set down, he snuggles into his pillows, they're a lot more comfortable than he remembers – a lot more welcoming. Burying his face into the mattress, he mumbles something of a thanks over his shoulder hoping Garrus could decipher his slur.

A part of him _didn't_ want to fall asleep, considering his dreams were likely to be lined with constant thoughts of her, and with his recent luck, her still fresh rejection would haunt him even during slumber. But the way the sheets of his bed enveloped him, it was hard to resist no matter how much of a fight he put up. Surrendering, he lets his eyes come to a full close; the fish tank still creating a semi illuminating glow around the room, even through his shut lids.

_Ring-ring**-riiing.**_

God, his head was going to hurt in the morning.

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**A/N:** So I started this off real slow and mysterious, it's definitely a M!Shepard and Samara fic and I'm excited for it! I hope you guys R&R, don't forget to check out my other stories. Also, would you rather see a M!Shepard and Kasumi fic, or an M!Shepard and Traynor fic? I'm having trouble deciding. Let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

Grumbling, Shepard shifts to his side, head pounding mercilessly.

The music emitting from his radio on the nightstand blaring, signaling that it's time for him to get up and start the day. It was a rare commodity for him not to be up before the alarm actually made itself known. Normally, he'd be up at least an hour or two prior to when he was supposed to be. He spent his mornings in one of three ways: working out in the gym on one of the lower levels, reluctantly filing papers and reading reports, or - if the rest of the crew had happened to be lucky that day, preparing breakfast with what he could work with before Gardner woke up. None of that was happening today, probably to everyone elses dismay.

Finally gaining enough strength to move his aching limbs, the man reaches over and smacks the radio causing all music to cease. With a thankful grunt, he rolls over and wraps his sheet back over his head. They were a_ lot _more comfortable last night than now. He knew he couldn't stay in bed all day, the little voice in the back of his mind was a constant reminder. But still knowing that; he couldn't bring himself to fully stand, or even sit up for that matter; just as he was about to succomb to sleep once more, a familar voice sounded from across the room, he must've blocked out the noise of the door opening.

"Oh look at sleeping beauty, I almost don't want to wake you," Garrus chuckles, receiving a grunt from Shepard as he pulls a pillow over the side of his head. "C'mon Shepard, get up."

"Go away," he grumbles, tossing a pillow at the turian and burying his face deeper into the mattress.

"I'll start singing a turian mating call if I have to, don't make me do it." Garrus stands at the side of the bed, very well ready to make some unpleasant noises if need be.

"Fine. I'm getting up, but I've gotta' shower. Leave now unless you want a show." Getting up from the bed, Shepard rests on hand on his head, the other being used as support to walk to the bathroom.

"I think I'll pass this time. Have fun, you have to be at a debriefing in twenty, don't forget," he calls over his shoulder, walking out into the hall then to the elevator.

Once in the bathroom, the commander lets out an exhausted sigh, slipping off the remainder of his pants along with his underclothes, already lacking a shirt since last night - and it's only god knows where. While removing his clothes, a scar glimmers in the mirror, catching his eye. He moves over to the sink, placing both hands on either side of the firm titanium, gazing up at his harden reflection. Most of the facial scarring dissipated, but there was still a few lingering marks across his back and chest. Something told him, regardless of the doctor's words, that a few of the wounds would _always_ be there - a constant reminder that he died and came back. Don't get him wrong, he was more than thankful, but it'd be a relief to feel a bit more human for once.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Shepard shifted from the mirror and turned on the water. As much as he'd like to have a decent warm shower, he knew very well that it'd lull him back to sleep. Hesitantly, he turned the knob to the coldest temperature it could be at, letting himself enter at a sluggish pace; the water pours like ice over his taut flesh. He rests his palms on the wall closest to him, letting the chilling feeling envelope him completely.

At this point, it's hard to have his mind not wander to her. Usually in times like this, he'd welcome it, she'd been a pleasant thought for a long while; though now, nothing bubbles up aside from a distant longing - and it was anything but welcome after the night he had. When he prepared to talk to her about how he felt, all his hopes were risen. Every action pulled him closer to the thought of her feeling the same. They had prolonged talks on the ship and off, none of which felt forced, it all came so natural and he knew there was no way she didn't think the same. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps their relationship was purely platonic, but there was no hurt in voicing his feelings, right? **Wrong**. So very **wrong**. He was never one to break easily, but her rejection was stinging more with each passing second.

Her words rang through his head as he rakes his hand over his shaved scalp.

_In another life._

What was wrong with the current one they were both in? There was no other life - at least not for him. In a way, this was his other life, this was his second chance. He didn't force himself on her, but simply offered himself to her. That alone was something terrifying, something he hadn't done since Ashley. All he had to settle with was her reasoning, one of which he should've seen coming but was blinded by his own feelings. Why hadn't he taken her oath into consideration? Not doing so caused the inevitable heartbreak. The only thing worse than overwhelming distress her words caused was knowing that part of her desired him too. But all he'd have to remember was an **almost** kiss, all he had to be content with was her promises of another life, and if that's how it had to be, he'd take it over nothing.

Shutting off the water, he takes a towel and wraps it loosely around his waist after quickly drying off. Not bothering to pick up his discarded clothes, Shepard leaves the room and enters into the living area almost missing the figure standing by his desk.

"Hey, you need something?" he asks not looking her way as he uses his free hand that wasn't holding the towel to rummage through his clothing drawer, breaking the silence that was held heavily over the two.

"We're all waiting for you downstairs. Miss Lawson says she has some important news to inform you with," Samara says, hands tightly locked behind her back, gaze not once faltering.

"I'll be down soon, just woke up late, is all." Laying out his spare regulation Cerberus uniform, he's ready to drop the straining cloth hung around his waist, but he still senses her presence lingering.

He takes a moment to sigh, not an irritating one, but weary - tired. Turning on his heels toward her, fumbling with the fabric covering his lower half, he glances her way. "Was there something else?"

It seems as though he catches her off guard, like she wasn't expecting him to speak with her, but she still responds nonetheless, "Are you feeling ill? It's rather rare for you to stay in so late. Is there something I can do to aid you?"

"No, I'm alright. I stayed up too late last night going over the rest of the dossiers, nothing you can do here," his tone is _flat_ and that's a rarity all on its own. His eyes show _no_ emotion, but he still sends her a small smile and a nod, whether it was forced or not, she doesn't know.

The asari merely returns his nod, walking towards the elevator and having the door shut behind her without so much as a goodbye. Groaning, Shepard shakes his head. Concealing his sentiments would be harder than he originally thought, but he was sure he could manage.

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**A/N: **Okay so this chapter might've gotten a little away from me, and I wrote more than I intended, but I hope you can see where this is headed. Don't forget to R&R, than you!


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